


Let Me Be Your Porn and Other Stories

by toyhto



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: AU and Non-AU, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Stand-Alones, Tumblr fics, different ratings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24284509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: A collection of short fics I've posted on Tumblr.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 80





	1. Let Me Be Your Porn

**Author's Note:**

> I've been posting these small A/E stories on tumblr, mostly written for prompts. I just wanted to put them in one place. Ratings vary, some of these are different kind of AUs and others are based on canon. These are stand-alone stories. Mostly romance with a hint of crack. You can also come say hi to me [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com).
> 
> The first of these is _Let Me Be Your Porn_ and it was written for the prompt _'I know you steal my wifi to watch porn but it’s kinda hot idk’ AU_ on [Daily AU on tumblr](http://dailyau.tumblr.com) on 5th in February.

Someone was stealing Eames’ wifi. He wasn’t too upset about it, though. Things like that were bound to happen, when four adult men and a cat were living in a two-bedroom apartment in Moscow. He just wished it wasn’t Dom, because he was stealing Dom’s wifi, and that would have been almost sweet. He wasn’t sweet. He was a grown man and a hardened criminal and also a little addicted to _Queer Eye._  
  
He wished it wasn’t Dom, and he wished it wasn’t the cat, either, because the cat seemed innocent and no one innocent could have guessed Eames’ password. So, that meant that there were only two options left. It was hard to believe that it would be Yusuf, because the poor idiot was homesick and had time for nothing besides mixing the drugs for them and complaining loudly about why the hell he had agreed to take this job. Well, Eames had an answer to that. Yusuf had taken the job, because Dom goddamn Cobb had managed to sweet talk them all to taking this ridiculous but oddly fascinating _but_ very poorly paid job in Moscow that required them living in a tiny flat together for reasons Eames hadn’t figured out yet. Eames hadn’t heard about Dom in two years, not after the Fischer job, and he hadn’t missed the man. But here he was, stealing Dom’s wifi and listening to Dom’s bullshit and trying to forge four different people in one job, two of which were dead, and being weirdly excited about the challenge.  
  
It had to be Yusuf, though. Yusuf was stealing Eames’ wifi. He was surprised Yusuf could do that, but it had to be Yusuf, because it couldn’t be Arthur. Arthur wasn’t a practical man. Arthur spent a lot of time trying to look like he didn’t want to get into Eames’ pants. Arthur would have never risked his reputation by stealing Eames’ wifi. Besides, Eames’ wifi was crap. That was why he was stealing Dom’s.  
  
But what if it was Arthur?

There were a few ways to find out. Eames could ask Dom, Yusuf, and the cat. The poor fuckers couldn’t lie, except for the cat. The downside of the plan was that then Arthur would find out that Eames was looking for the thief. Dom would tell Arthur immediately. Eames didn’t know why exactly he was so frustrated about the fact that Arthur still seemed very close with Dom, but he was. He was extremely frustrated. He couldn’t believe Arthur had kept contact with Dom but not with him. Arthur probably _called_ Dom _with a phone_ and still ignored Eames’ texts, most of which had been composed while he had been drunk, but they were good texts anyway. Or averagely good. Or almost bearable. If you were drunk when you read them.  
  
Well, anyway, he wasn’t going to get his blood pressure up about Arthur and Dom again. It wasn’t like he actually cared what they did. But when they had gotten to the flat and realized there were two bedrooms and four of them and, of course, the cat, he had grabbed Arthur’s shoulder and said that he was going to sleep with Arthur. Arthur had punched him in the gut. After that, he had specified that he would be sharing a bedroom with Arthur, because obviously he was going to have to share with someone and he didn’t like Yusuf’s hair nor Dom’s personality.  
  
Shit, he was thinking about Arthur and Dom again.  
  
The good thing was that Dom was most certainly straight. Eames knew this, because he had once flirted at Dom and Dom hadn’t flirted back. So, he didn’t have to worry about Dom and Arthur sleeping together or anything like that. Even though, if Dom had made an exception for someone, it would have been Arthur. Obviously. Arthur was the best-looking man in the business, if you were into his sort and not Eames’. And besides, Arthur was incredibly clever and competent and had a wicked sense of humour and more odd habits than should have been legal and a lovely nose. It was possible that Dom had feelings for Arthur, even though he was straight. Any sane person would have feelings for Arthur.  
  
Oh, _bloody hell._ Eames was thinking about Dom and Arthur _again._ He should stop that. But also, he should figure out if Arthur was stealing his wifi.  
  
It was very fortunate that he happened to know the basics of hacking computers. He had learned it when he had been in school. That was also the reason why he hadn’t learned differential math, but it was obvious which one of these skills was more useful in life.  
  
So, at night, he waited until Arthur was asleep. Arthur was very bad at sleeping, but this time, Eames had luck. When he heard that Arthur was sniffling in his sleep, he hid under the blanket with his laptop and started working. His hacking skills were a little rusty but he managed it in the end.  
  
It was Arthur.  
  
But that wasn’t even the best part.  
  
The best part was that since Eames was already violating Arthur’s privacy by hacking his computer, there really was no reason not to check what Arthur was doing with Eames’ wifi. Maybe Arthur was addicted to _Queer Eye_ as well. Or to _Game of Thrones,_ which would have been more like him. Or maybe Arthur was having debates on Reddit. Or maybe Arthur was looking for a pen pal to practice his Portuguese with. Eames had heard him speak it four months ago in Lisbon and it had been a little rusty.  
  
But Arthur wasn’t doing any of this.  
  
Eames bit his teeth and tried not to laugh. Also, he tried not to get hard in his pants.  
  
Arthur was watching porn.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Eames told himself plenty of times that he was going to forget about Arthur and the porn. Well, not about _Arthur_ , because who could forget Arthur? But he was going to forget he had hacked Arthur’s computer and found out what kind of porn Arthur was watching. And he definitely wasn’t going to start acting weird around Arthur. He wasn’t going to think about the porn when he was talking to Arthur about job. That would have been just stupid. It wasn’t even weird porn. And it was hardly news that Arthur watched porn. Many people did. Not all, but many, Eames himself included. Actually, it was a little weird that he hadn’t been thinking about Arthur watching porn until now.  
  
But most of all, he wasn’t going to say anything about it to Arthur.  
  
The next morning, he woke up after Arthur had already got out of the bed. He took a shower, put on his least dirty clothes and walked to the kitchen. Arthur was there, sitting at the table and drinking coffee.  
  
“I know you’re stealing my wifi to watch porn,” Eames said.  
  
_Shit._  
  
“What?” Arthur said and looked around, but they were alone in the kitchen, except for the cat, who was sitting on the counter and staring at them judgingly.  
  
“Nothing,” Eames said quickly. “Forget that I said anything. Really, I wasn’t going to say anything. About you watching porn.”  
  
“Eames -,” Arthur started but then paused and didn’t go on. Very well. It wasn’t like they were going to have a conversation about this.  
  
“I just noticed that someone was stealing my wifi,” Eames said, “which is fine because I’m stealing Dom’s, but really, you can’t except me not to be curious about who that was. And I knew it wasn’t the cat.”  
  
“Really,” Arthur said.  
  
“And then I hacked your computer and found out what you have been doing with my wifi.”  
  
Arthur frowned. “How’s that even possible?”  
  
“I’m a very dangerous man,” Eames said, took a donut from the fridge and offered another to Arthur. Arthur took it. It was heart-shaped and had pink frosting. It was exactly the way Eames liked his donuts. “Anyway, it wasn’t even kinky.”  
  
“Eames –“  
  
“Maybe we should talk about that. Because I don’t want to offend your taste in porn, but I bet I could recommend you better stuff.”  
  
“That won’t be necessary,” Arthur said.  
  
“It’s funny, though, how you find the time to watch all that porn. I guess I’ve only wanked, like, every other morning while we’ve been here. In the shower, like a gentleman.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“And you’re so good at your job,” Eames said, “and so good at everything else as well. I don’t know how you do it when you’re watching all that porn.”  
  
“I usually take a break from working when I’m watching porn,” Arthur said, “unless I’m trying to multitask. Listen, Eames –“  
  
“And I don’t mind at all that apparently you’ve been watching porn in the bedroom you share with me. It’s not confusing at all. Or arousing. It doesn’t make think that maybe you’ve been watching porn when I’ve been _right there._ And, well, I know porn is probably better than me. I’m not very flexible. And sometimes I talk a lot.”  
  
“I hadn’t noticed.”  
  
“So I’m not saying that, you know, you’re gay, and I’m gay, and Dom’s not gay.”  
  
“Dom’s not… Fucking hell, Eames, why would you bring that up?”  
  
“If you kiss him, don’t tell me about it,” Eames said and then grimaced. “Please, don’t kiss him. I can’t bear it. He’s not good enough for you.”  
  
“That’s not the reason why I won’t kiss him,” Arthur said slowly. “He’s my friend. My very straight friend that I don’t like that way. Eames, what the hell –“  
  
“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that you’re stealing my wifi to watch porn and that we don’t have to talk about it.”  
  
“ _Eames._ ”  
  
Eames took a deep breath, sat down in the chair, grabbed Arthur’s cup of coffee and drank of it. It was black and bitter. Eames got the milk from the fridge and poured some in the coffee, and then he realised Arthur had said something. “What?”  
  
“Now there’s more milk in there than there’s coffee,” Arthur said. “Eames, you’re an asshole.”  
  
“I am not,” Eames said. “I’ll get you another cup of coffee.”  
  
“I didn’t mean that,” Arthur said. It almost seemed like he was smiling a little. “You hacked my computer.”  
  
“You stole my wifi.”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said, “but you _hacked my computer_. I didn’t think you were interested.”  
  
“You never answered my texts,” Eames said, because clearly they were blaming each other for the things they had or hadn’t done. That was what was happening in this conversation.  
  
“You never texted me when you were sober.”  
  
Eames cleared his throat. “How could you tell?”  
  
“All the words were typed wrong.”  
  
“All the words?”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said. “All of them. Including your name.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Eames said and took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry I drank your coffee.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Arthur said. “I’m sorry I’ve been stealing your wifi. I’m going to keep on doing it, though. There’s no point in getting my own now that the job is half-done.”  
  
“Go ahead,” Eames said. “I’m a little sorry that I hacked your computer. Like, mildly sorry. But not much.”  
  
“Like I said, I didn’t think you were interested,” Arthur said. “What did you mean when you said that I am gay and you are gay?”  
  
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say that.”  
  
“You did.”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“ _Nothing?_ ”  
  
“Listen,” Eames said slowly, “I’m not saying that we should sleep together or anything.”  
  
“Because you don’t like me that way,” Arthur said. His perfect little face was totally serious.  
  
Eames took a deep breath, and then another, and then another. _Goddamn._ “Fuck, no. Yes. I like you. I like you exactly that way.”  
  
“Really?” Arthur said, took the cup Eames had stolen from him and refilled it.  
  
“Yes,” Eames said in a breathless voice, despite all the breathing he was doing. “Arthur, I like you. I like you a lot.”  
  
“Good,” Arthur said. Now he was smiling. He looked relieved but calm.  
  
Eames didn’t feel calm. He felt like he was going to die from a heart attack in the next ten seconds. But there was something he needed to say to Arthur first.  
  
“Arthur, I like you,” he said and then realized he had said that already. “Let me be your porn.”  
  
Arthur looked at him for a long time. He bit his lip. He knew he had many faults, and he wished Arthur didn’t know of them all, but then again, Arthur was very clever. That was why he liked Arthur, among other things. Many other things. He could be Arthur’s porn. He could be some kind of weird indie porn for Arthur. A British guy with a lot of tattoos giving head to a lovely serious American, only then it would turn out that the British guy was very ticklish, and liked having his nipples pinched but hated it when someone touched his butt, and didn’t like getting fucked but liked fucking, and sometimes recited poems after he had come without realising he was doing it. That kind of porn. He just wished Arthur would be into it.


	2. Is It Chocolate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 22th January for the prompt _‘we both got kicked out of our rooms because our roommates are having sex so now we’re standing in the hallway avoiding each other’ AU_ on [Daily AU on tumblr](http://dailyau.tumblr.com).

IS IT CHOCOLATE?  
  
  
Arthur glanced over his shoulder when the door opened and closed. Then he quickly returned his gaze to the apartment building across the street.  
  
“Hi,” said the British guy who lived across the hallway on Arthur’s floor.  
  
“Hi,” Arthur said, not turning to look. He had seen the guy a couple of times in the hallway. Once the guy had obviously tried to introduce himself, but Arthur had pretended he hadn’t heard. Later, he had told himself that he had been busy. But that wasn’t it.  
  
“You’re Arthur, right?” the guy asked.  
  
Arthur frowned and turned to him. It was a mistake. The guy was looking at him as if _Arthur_ was the cute one. “Yes,” he said, wondering how the hell it was even possible that he had a crush on a guy with whom he had never spoke. “How do you know that?”  
  
“Your roommate is nice. I’ve talked to him a couple of times.”  
  
“Oh,” Arthur said, “of course.” And wasn’t it great that now he was jealous of Tom, even though he knew Tom was fucking Harry in his and Arthur’s bathroom _right now_.  
  
“I wanted to know who you were,” the British guy said and stepped closer to Arthur. Arthur took a step away, but the guy didn’t seem to notice. “I’m Eames.”  
  
“Really?” Arthur asked and then realized how stupid thing that was to say. Eames probably thought he was an idiot.  
  
Eames grinned. “Yes. I know. Tell it to my parents. But let’s face it, we can’t all be Arthurs.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said, “no.” _Shit._ “I mean, I like your name.”  
  
“Great,” Eames said and grinned a bit more. Then he stretched out his hand, and it took Arthur a few seconds to realize Eames wanted to shake hands with him. “Nice to meet you, Arthur.”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said. Eames’ hand was warm and big. Even Eames’ fingers were big.  
  
“So,” Eames said and took a cigarette box out of his pocket, “do you smoke?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Me, neither,” Eames said and lit the cigarette. “It’s just that it sometimes helps. For example, if you’re standing on the pavement with a stranger.”  
  
“What – _oh._ ”  
  
“Trying to make conversation,” Eames said, taking a drag of the cigarette, “and it’s a bit tricky because you’re kind of nervous, because he’s so goddamn cute and you’ve been kind of checking him out in the hallway.”  
  
Arthur tried to keep up with Eames was saying. He wasn’t stupid or anything. It was just that what Eames said, it didn’t make sense.

  
“But this is just a happy coincidence,” Eames said and waved his hand at Arthur’s vague direction. “I’d be safely in my flat and not trying to hit on you down here if it weren’t for my roommate. He’s got a new boyfriend and they’re just so loud, I can’t bear it.”  
  
“Fuck,” Arthur said. Eames glanced at him, and he realized he had been staring at Eames’ mouth. He fixed his gaze on Eames’ eyes instead.  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said, “they’re singing _all the time_ , these stupid love songs. They sing when they’re in the shower, they sing when they cook, and they even sing when they’re shagging. It’s freaky. Last night, it was _Let It Go._ ”  
  
Arthur cleared his throat.  
  
“I’m kidding,” Eames said. “It was _Can You Feel the Love Tonight._ ”  
  
“My roommate is fucking,” Arthur said. He didn’t know why.  
  
“Really?” Eames asked conversationally. “Whom?”  
  
“Harry,” Arthur said, “they’ve been together for a while. I kind of introduced them.”  
  
“So, that’s why you’re out here with me.” Eames glanced at him. “Are they in your bed?”  
  
“What? _No._ I hope not. They were in the bathroom when I left.”  
  
Eames grinned. “So, are you just shy? Or are they as loud as my roommate and his boyfriend? Is there Disney songs involved?”  
  
“No and no,” Arthur said and then took a deep breath. It was September, the night was brisk but not cold. “I’m just shy.”  
  
“I was kind of counting on that,” Eames said. “I thought maybe that’s why you’ve been avoiding me.”  
  
“I haven’t –“  
  
“The last time I saw you in the hallway,” Eames said, “you literally started running.”  
  
“Perhaps I was late,” Arthur said, biting his lip.  
  
“Perhaps,” Eames said. He put out his cigarette and pushed his hands into his pockets. Maybe he was getting ready to get back inside. Maybe he would go to his flat and leave Arthur standing there, wondering if he had imagined all the things Eames had said. Or maybe he would go to his flat and wait for Arthur to grow a spine and come to knock on his door and tell him he was so fucking good-looking that Arthur didn’t know how to talk to him.  
  
Arthur took a deep breath. “I wasn’t. Late, I mean. I just have a crush on you.”  
  
Eames turned to him. He closed his eyes.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You heard me,” he said, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe if he was embarrassing enough, something heavy would miraculously fall onto him and knock him dead.  
  
“Yes, I heard you,” Eames said. He sounded like he was smiling. Arthur opened one eye and glanced at him. “So, I have a car parked two blocks away.”  
  
“Two blocks away?” Arthur asked in a thin voice.  
  
“It’s so tricky to find parking space in here.”  
  
“I mean,” Arthur said and cleared his throat, “a car?”  
  
“Yes,” Eames said. “I just thought that, you know, we could sit in there instead of standing here on the pavement. Or we could go to a coffee or something. But I kind of like the thought of sitting in a car with you.”  
  
“Okay,” Arthur said.  
  
Eames took a step closer to him. He was even more good-looking from close distance. “Really? Surely you realize that I’m trying to hit on you here?”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said.  
  
Eames looked thoughtful. “And that I’m probably trying to kiss you when we get to the car? Unless you don’t want me to, of course.”  
  
“I want you to,” Arthur said.  
  
“Good,” Eames said. He was grinning again. He had crooked teeth and stubble and his eyes were blue and he was maybe an inch shorter than Arthur. He was perfect. Arthur held his breath. “Let’s go,” Eames said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
An hour later, it turned out Eames was everything but perfect. He was the most irritating person Arthur had ever met. But in a good way. Probably. He drove them to a quiet parking lot and parked the car in a corner where the streetlight didn’t reach, and then he talked and talked and talked until finally Arthur kissed him. Just to shut him up. But the kissing didn’t shut him up, not for long, so eventually Arthur unzipped his jeans and pushed his hand inside his boxers. That didn’t shut him up, either.  
  
The only thing that worked was when Arthur had him lying on his back in the backseat, his ridiculously big hands holding Arthur by his hips as Arthur lowered himself down. And even then, he was silent for maybe half a minute.  
  
Afterwards, they went to for ice cream. They sat side by side on the counter in a small café where they were the only customers, and Eames put his hand on Arthur’s thigh lightly as if he wasn’t sure he could do it.  
  
“That’s fine,” Arthur said and ate more of his ice cream. It was chocolate, his favorite.  
  
Eames cleared his throat. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“It all happened a lot faster than I had expected,” Eames said with a frown. “I don’t usually… I usually get to know people a little before I…”  
  
“Yeah, me, too,” Arthur said. Then he put the ice cream down and really looked at Eames. Maybe what Eames meant was that he didn’t want to get to know Arthur _at all_ , not now that they had already had sex, and he had asked Arthur to an ice cream just out of politeness, and it had been Arthur’s sex-hazed mind that had thought it was something more. _Shit._ And Arthur had already thought he was falling for this guy.  
  
“Do you want to come over?” Eames asked. “To my place. It’s just across the hallway. I have ice cream in there, too. You can sleep in my bed.”  
  
“Or I could just go home,” Arthur said slowly.  
  
“Or you could come to my place,” Eames said. “Did I mention that I have ice cream?”  
  
“Is it chocolate?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
Arthur tried to consider it, but he really couldn’t. He liked Eames too much already. “Okay.”


	3. About Passwords and Spaceships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the prompt Hospital AU + Proposal Fic by anon, written on 10th in April.

ABOUT PASSWORDS AND SPACESHIPS  
  
  
Arthur woke up in a hospital. He blinked at the bright cold light and took a deep breath, which was a mistake. Everything in him hurt. If he hadn’t known what had happened, he might have guessed that somebody had dropped a piano on his chest or something. Instead, he had just gotten kicked from a moving car.  
  
Well, at least he was alive. He didn’t especially like hospitals, because who the hell did, but the mattress wasn’t bad, and the tubes attached to him seemed kind of, well, essential. And it was quiet.  
  
He closed his eyes and shifted in the bed. Maybe he could sleep for a little -  
  
“Arthur?” someone said. “Arthur, are you awake?”  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
It was Eames.  
  
“Arthur? Arthur, you look like hell. What the fuck happened? I had to call a thousand hospitals before I found you. I haven’t flirted with that many secretaries for half a year at least. It took _ages._ And the whole time I was thinking that maybe you’re dead, maybe you’re… Arthur, are you dead?”  
  
Arthur kept his eyes closed. Maybe he could play dead.  
  
“Because if you’re dead, I will fucking kill you,” Eames said in a very quiet voice. Apparently, he was poking at Arthur’s arm with his fingers. “ _Are_ you dead?”  
  
Arthur opened his eyes. “No.”

  
So, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant to see Eames’ face at the side of his hospital bed, even though it was clear that Eames hadn’t taken a shower or shaved or combed his hair or changed his clothes since they had finished the unfortunate job. That was kind of understandable, of course. Apparently, Eames had been busy flirting at secretaries.  
  
“You look like shit,” Arthur said. Speaking hurt, but it was worth it, because for a second Eames looked genuinely offended.  
  
“No, darling,” Eames said then, “ _you_ look like shit. What did they do to you?”  
  
“I bet you know more than me,” Arthur said. Maybe if he only took tiny breaths, it wouldn’t hurt so much. “You’ve had plenty of time to flirt at my doctor.”  
  
“Arthur, your doctor has a husband, two kids and a puppy,” Eames said. He had stopped poking at Arthur’s arm, which was probably for the best. “And yes, I flirted at him and you have broken pretty much all of your ribs.”  
  
“That’s not possible.”  
  
“Well, you know that I’m practically professional at medicine,” Eames says, “so trust me. You’re going to have to take it easy for a long time after this.”  
  
Arthur tried not to smile. “Really? Any specific recommendations?”  
  
“Yeah,” Eames says, “I recommend that you don’t take any job and instead, you go somewhere warm where there’s the sea and no fucking criminals to kick you at the ribs.”  
  
“Warm,” Arthur said, “and the sea.” It didn’t sound too bad. Maybe he was on morphine. “And who’d stay there with me?”  
  
“I bet you have someone,” Eames said, leaning closer to him. “Now, tell me what happened.”  
  
He bit his lip. “Got kicked from a car.”  
  
“Yeah, I figured that. The secretary said you were found in the ditch at the side of the highway.”  
  
“Don’t kill anyone. They slowed down a little before they threw me out. I think.”  
  
“And how did they –“  
  
“Got me when I was trying to get back to the hotel. After we had cleaned up the place.”  
  
“Shit,” Eames said. He hovered over the side of Arthur’s bed, raised his hand and placed it on Arthur’s arm, his touch light as a… a… “Can I do this?”  
  
“I need more morphine.”  
  
“They didn’t give you morphine, darling,” Eames said, “but I have a full list of all the drugs they gave you. You can study it later. I bet you’re interested. The nurse I flirted at to get it got quite excited and asked me on a date. So, you’d better be thankful because I think it’s going to be a boring date.”  
  
Arthur bit his lip. “Maybe you’re going to fall in love.”  
  
“I wouldn’t bet money on it. Arthur? How do you feel? You’re kind of pale.”  
  
“I feel like a fucking shipwreck.”  
  
Eames squeezed his arm lightly. That kind of hurt, but the last thing he wanted was Eames to stop touching him.  
  
“It’s so much worse than in dreams,” he said. “Feels fucking… feels real.”  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said, “yeah, I know. Arthur, I need to ask you something.”  
  
“I’m not going to tell you the password to my laptop.”  
  
Eames smiled. He really should’ve shaved. Arthur watched his mouth, and then the door behind Eames’ back opened softly. Good, now they would give him more drugs, only it wasn’t the doctor, it was Dom. He had thought Dom had gone back to the States already. And then there was Ariadne too, and she looked pale and terrified, and then Yusuf came in as well. Oh, fucking hell, they were all still here. Arthur opened his mouth, but Eames started stroking his arm with his thumb.  
  
“I don’t need your password, darling,” Eames said, “I’m going to guess it anyway. Arthur, listen to me. I think –“  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said, because there was something in Eames’ voice that made a hundred warning signals go off in his head. Surely Eames knew their whole team was standing behind his back. He _had_ to know.  
  
“Arthur,” Eames said, took Arthur’s hand and held it in his, “you fucking scared me today.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Arthur said and glanced at Dom over Eames’ shoulder. “Eames, do you realize that –“  
  
“Something’s got to change,” Eames said, ignoring him, which was so fucking typical it almost made him smile. _Almost._ Because he had a bad feeling about this. “Arthur, will you marry me?”  
  
Oh, bloody fucking _hell._  
  
“Eames,” he said pretty much at the same time with Dom, who said _what_ , and Ariadne who said _what_ in a very delighted tone, and Yusuf, who said _what the fuck_.  
  
“Oh,” Eames said, looking over his shoulder, “hello, guys. I didn’t know you were there.”  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said. He was going to kill the bastard.  
  
“But,” Dom said, glancing between Eames and Arthur, “you aren’t… you can’t be… you never…”  
  
“Are you _dating?_ ” Yusuf asked, his eyes wide.  
  
“Are you _fucking?_ ” Ariadne asked, sounding like someone had bought her something very nice for Christmas.  
  
“Yes,” Eames said, then raised his hand and very slowly stroked the side of Arthurs’ face, “even though I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to take it easy for a while. You don’t look like you’d be up for fucking for some time, darling.”  
  
“Go to hell,” Arthur said, but he said it nicely, and Eames was excellent at ignoring his words anyway. “You asked me something, you asshole.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Eames said, following the line of Arthur’s chin with his thumb, “it was the password to your laptop.”  
  
Arthur smiled. He couldn’t help it, since he was on the painkillers. And then he just kept on smiling.  
  
“And,” Eames said, “ _and_ I also asked if you might be so nice and marry me.”  
  
“Alright,” Arthur said.  
  
“ _Alright?_ ” Dom said. “Arthur, you barely know him.”  
  
“We’ve been fucking for three years,” Eames said, his eyes still fixed on Arthur, “with feelings.”  
  
“ _Three years?”_  
  
“Dom,” Arthur said, “go back to the States. I’m sure Philippa and James miss you. And I’m going to be just fine. I’ll see you at the wedding.”  
  
“The thing is, darling,” Eames said, “the thing is that I’ve already made plans for the wedding. A lot of plans. Did you know that I was a Star Trek fan when I was a kid?”  
  
“Oh, for fuck’s –“  
  
“Quiet, now,” Eames said and took his hand again, “don’t strain yourself, you just got thrown out of a car. So, there’s going to be a spaceship.”  
  
“I hate you,” Arthur said.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Eames said and squeezed his hand. “Just wait until you see the spaceship.”


	4. Any Other Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for the prompt _['we both tried to rob a bank at the same time'](https://dailyau.tumblr.com/post/190737041114/we-both-tried-to-rob-a-bank-at-the-same-time-au)_ on [Daily AU on tumblr](http://dailyau.tumblr.com).

ANY OTHER MONDAY  
  
  
  
It was just like any other Monday. Arthur woke up, brushed his teeth, made coffee, had breakfast, wondered what the hell was wrong with his life and when that had happened, remembered he had forgot to charge his phone, left the house ten minutes late, didn’t yell at other people who were stuck in the traffic jam, and robbed a bank.  
  
That was when the things got complicated.  
  
It had been supposed to be a regular bank job. Dom had texted Arthur the address, how much money to get and his deepest apologies for not being able to be there, but surely Arthur knew how hard it was to find a good nanny. Arthur knew that, because Dom had told him about it many times. He wasn’t exactly angry, just a little disappointed at himself. Some of the career choices he had made in his life hadn’t turned out like he had expected.  
  
But what he was actually angry about was that there was another person robbing the bank. The same bank. At the same time. With a better gun. And it was Eames.

  
“Bloody hell,” Arthur said in a cool and professional tone. He was holding his gun at the bank clerk’s general direction, but he was looking at Eames, who had somehow managed to dress even below his personal standards. He looked barely decent to go to a supermarket.  
  
“I can’t believe it,” Eames said, smiling. “It’s been such a long time, darling.”  
  
“I’m going to kill you,” Arthur told him, and the bank clerk let out a somewhat distressed cry. Arthur glanced at the woman. “Not you, obviously. Him. He turned up uninvited. That’s just so rude.”  
  
“Actually, I _was_ invited,” Eames said. “Dom texted me.”  
  
Arthur opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. “You aren’t supposed to say his name aloud, you fucking idiot.”  
  
“But it’s not like that’s his real name,” Eames said and then frowned, his eyes widening. “Or _is it?_ ”  
  
Arthur was going to tell Eames that yes, Dom’s actual name was Dom, and that apparently Eames had been going to the gym recently and his biceps didn’t look half as good as he thought they did, and besides, even if he was insanely handsome for reasons no one understood, that didn’t lessen the impact of his annoying personality. Then he remembered what Dom had told him about talking to Eames at work. What Dom had told him was that every time he talked to Eames, he sounded like he was in love and trying to hide it. So, he thought it over and kept his mouth shut this time. He was very good at his job and also very good at hiding his feelings.  
  
“Listen,” Eames said, “I think we should settle this thing.”  
  
“I was here first,” Arthur said.  
  
Eames frowned. “We came at the exact same time, which is kind of weird, actually, because you’re never late.”  
  
“I caught up in the traffic,” Arthur said. “Bloody hell, you’re so annoying.”  
  
“Yeah, but darling, I really think that we should just get this job done and go.”  
  
“And why’s that?” Not that Arthur didn’t want to get rid of Eames’ face as soon as possible, because he totally did. He just didn’t like it when Eames told him what to do.  
  
“Because we’re kind of trying to rob the bank,” Eames said, “and I’m pretty sure someone’s already called the police.”  
  
Oh, that. “Okay. But you’re going to do what I say.”  
  
“Really,” Eames said.  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said very calmly, “yeah, or else I will kill you, I swear.”  
  
The bank clerk took a sharp breath.  
  
“Not _you_ ,” Arthur said. _Bloody hell._ “Of course I’m not going to kill _you._ What do you think I am, a criminal?”  
  
“Darling,” Eames said in his softest tone. Arthur wondered if he used that in the bedroom. With someone. A person. Whom he was fucking. Nicely. But with some strength, because he _was_ pretty big. Not that way. Or probably that way, too. Not that Arthur had been wondering what Eames’ dick was like. It was probably big. And hard. And would feel very nice in his -  
  
“ _Darling_ ,” Eames said, his tone more urgent now. “They’re coming.”  
  
It took Arthur a second to realize what Eames was talking about. “Oh. The police. Yeah, we should go.”  
  
“We didn’t get the money.”  
  
“I’ll text Dom and explain.”  
  
“I wouldn’t text him,” Eames said. “I think he’s lost his ability to read now that he’s been awake for two weeks straight. Because of the baby, you know.”  
  
“The _baby_ is five years old,” Arthur said, “and her little brother is three.”  
  
“Oh,” Eames said, “okay, then he must be addicted to Netflix. That stuff’s heavy. What’ve you been watching lately? Because there’s this show _Black Sails_ and I like it a lot, even though it’s kind of violent. I don’t realize why there has to be violence everywhere these days. It’s like, you can’t go through your day without someone rubbing violence on your face. There’s violence in the ads, violence on the TV, violence at the local bank –“  
  
“The cops are here,” Arthur said and waved his gun once more to let the customer service know he didn’t need the money after all. The cops were gathering around the building. “We should use the back door.”  
  
“Together?” Eames asked. He sounded hopeful.  
  
“Do you want to get arrested?”  
  
“Not really,” Eames said. “The food was bad the last time I was in.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Arthur said, “nothing’s like it used to be. Come on.”  
  
Eames nodded and turned to the bank clerk, who was looking a little confused now. Maybe she had never been almost robbed before. “Sorry about the inconvenience. Have a nice day. And –“ He glanced at Arthur. “I apologize for my partner’s behalf. He’s not normally like that. He’s been under a lot of stress lately. His mother’s been ill.”  
  
“You aren’t supposed to know that,” Arthur said to Eames and then turned to the bank clerk, “and we aren’t together. Not like that. Absolutely not. Even if two men are both gay and one of them thinks the other one is insanely hot in a very infuriating way, that doesn’t automatically mean that they’re together.”  
  
“Darling,” Eames said.  
  
Right. The police. “Okay,” Arthur said and then followed Eames to the back door. Meanwhile, the cops were apparently trying to figure out if there was some kind of a hostage situation going on and if someone was going to get shot. From behind his back, Arthur could still hear the terrified silence of those whose work routine had been interrupted. That silence had never been his favorite part of the job. Personally, he preferred rap music, but he would’ve never admitted that to anyone and especially not to Eames.  
  
There was nobody waiting for them at the back door, so they started running to the same direction. Arthur was a bit disappointed that he had had to abandon his car, but then again, it wasn’t really his car. And Eames looked very nice in that terrible shirt. Maybe this morning wasn’t going to be completely intolerable after all.  
  
Then he heard someone shouting at the exact tone the cops used when someone had been robbing the bank and was now trying to get away with it.  
  
“I think we should split up,” Eames said.  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said. He wasn’t sorry about that, not at all.  
  
“Waffles?” Eames asked when they crossed the street. “In an hour?”  
  
“Yeah, alright,” Arthur said, turned and started running to the opposite direction. He needed a car, and it had better to have air-conditioning.  
  
  
**  
  
  
An hour later, he was drinking coffee at the corner table, and Eames was late. He shouldn’t have been surprised but he was. He was just about to leave an angry voicemail for Dom when Eames finally came through the door.  
  
“You’re late,” Arthur said.  
  
“Chocolate or hazelnut?” Eames asked and then didn’t wait for an answer. He walked straight to the counter and started flirting with the bartender. Arthur pretended not to see. When Eames came back to the table with two plates of waffles with ice cream, chocolate and hazelnut, Arthur took the plate that had more ice cream on it and started eating. He wasn’t angry that Eames had been flirting with the bartender. And besides, he hid it perfectly.  
  
“Arthur,” Eames asked, “are you angry that I flirted with the bartender?”  
  
“Of course not,” Arthur said. “I’m not jealous.”  
  
“Oh, darling,” Eames said. “But you’ve got nothing to be jealous of. You know that the only reason why we haven’t fucked yet is that you keep telling me we aren’t into each other.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said and tried to swallow too much ice cream at once. Eames waited patiently while Arthur dealt with the ice cream situation. That was one of the many things about Eames’ personality that Arthur couldn’t stand, the patience. It drove him insane. “It’s not like you want to fuck me, though,” he said finally.  
  
“Who wouldn’t want to fuck you?” Eames asked. He sounded sincere but then again, he was very good at pretending. He had been pretending for five years that he thought Arthur was hot. Arthur had felt very hurt at the beginning, but now he had been fine about it for at least two months. It was just that it was a bit rude, right? He knew that Eames didn’t like him that way, so did Eames have to constantly rub it on his face by acting like he did? “Darling,” Eames said, looking almost worried, “how’ve you been?”  
  
“Great,” Arthur said and stabbed the waffle.  
  
“Shit,” Eames said. He sounded more empathic when he was faking it than Arthur did when he was sincere. It was very unfair. “Your mom?”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about my mom.”  
  
“Alright,” Eames said and took a deep breath, “let’s talk about us, then. I’ve been thinking that maybe I should take a vacation.”  
  
Arthur blinked. “What?”  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said. “This job just doesn’t bring me joy anymore. Money’s nice, I guess, but there’re other ways to get it than from a bank, right? And my lifestyle is very humble. The only thing that I need money for is my gambling addiction.”  
  
“I thought you had got rid of that.”  
  
“It came back,” Eames said, “when I started gambling again.”  
  
“You probably shouldn’t gamble.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Eames said and cleared his throat. “Anyway, how’s your love life?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Oh, good. Because I thought maybe you could come with me.”  
  
Arthur frowned. “Where?”  
  
“On my vacation,” Eames said. He looked perfectly serious like every time when he was joking. “I was thinking, maybe we could rent a cabin, read books, go on a hike, have sex, something like that.”  
  
Arthur bit his lip.  
  
“No robbing banks,” Eames said, “not a single one, I swear. Just two guys on a vacation. No crime.”  
  
“But…” Arthur tried to think about it, but it still didn’t make sense. “I don’t see how this is funny. You don’t want to have sex with me.”  
  
Eames stared at him like he was missing something. He wanted to point out that Eames himself had ice cream on his chin, but he ended up staring at Eames’ chin for too long and then blushed.  
  
“Arthur,” Eames said, reached over the table and placed his hand on Arthur’s. “I’m going to say something and I need you to try to believe me. You’ve been telling me for five years that I don’t actually like you, when the thing is that I do like you. I like you very much. I like you so much that I’ve robbed fifty-seven banks for Cobb just to keep in touch with you. Working for Cobb seems like the only way to keep in touch with you, really, because every time I ask you on a date, you laugh at my face and tell me that I’m kidding. But I’m not. I really am not.”  
  
Arthur tried to laugh, but it came out a little thin. He didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on in here.  
  
“And it’s not like I can’t take a no for an answer,” Eames said, “because I _can_ , it’s just… the way you’re turning me down is a bit confusing. And you stare at me, Arthur.”  
  
“Only because you look so good,” Arthur said and tried to stop staring at Eames.  
  
“I don’t _mind_ ,” Eames said and squeezed Arthur’s hand. “Darling, I fucking swear that I want to kiss you. Gently. Many times. Because I fucking like you. You’re the hottest criminal that I’ve ever met. And I’d very much like to have sex with you. Shag you. Make love with you. Enjoy the pleasures –“  
  
“Bloody hell,” Arthur said and pulled his hand out of Eames’ grasp. Then he thought about it and put his hand back. Eames entangled their fingers together. “I thought you were kidding,” Arthur said.  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said, “yeah, I know. But I wasn’t.”  
  
“So, are you saying that for five years –“  
  
“Yeah.  
  
“When you’ve been flirting with me for five years, you’ve actually –“  
  
“I’ve actually been flirting with you for five years.”  
  
“Holy shit.”  
  
“I even told Cobb,” Eames said, “three years ago, because I was getting desperate. I thought he’d tell you and you’d finally believe it.”  
  
“He told me,” Arthur said. He remembered the conversation very well. “I thought he was teasing me. We had a fight about it.”  
  
“Oh, darling,” Eames said.  
  
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this,” Arthur said, “but it’s sometimes a bit difficult for me to believe it when people say they like me. I guess I’ve got some kind of issues.”  
  
“Well,” Eames said, “we’ve all got issues. But yeah, I’ve noticed.”  
  
“Are you sure that you like me?”  
  
“I bought us plane tickets,” Eames said and pulled the tickets out of his pocket. “Here. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”  
  
“We’re going to… _Ohio?_ ”  
  
“I panicked when I was choosing the destination. I don’t know what happened, I just suddenly had this terrible idea that maybe the reason why you’ve been putting me off all these years is that you don’t like me.”  
  
Arthur swallows. “It’s not that.”  
  
“So I figured. I’m an optimist at heart. But I had already picked Ohio. Sorry about that.”  
  
“It’s alright.” Arthur swallowed again. “I like you, Eames.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Eames said.  
  
“I like you a lot.”  
  
“Good to hear. So –“  
  
“And I’d like to fuck you.”  
  
Eames cleared his throat. “Really? That’s good, because I –“  
  
“Or actually,” Arthur cut in, “actually I’d like you to fuck me. If that’s alright.”  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said slowly, “yeah, it’s perfectly alright. Darling, are you perhaps kidding? Is this your version of humor? Are you trying to get back at me, because you thought for five years that I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted to sleep with you?”  
  
“Of course not,” Arthur said. “I really want you to fuck me.”  
  
Eames stared at him. “This feels like a trap.”  
  
“Bloody hell,” Arthur said and stood up. He had already finished his waffles and besides, the police were looking for him. He could as well go home and watch something on Netflix. He took one of the plane tickets Eames was holding in his hand. “See you at the airport.”  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said. “See you at the airport. And I mean it, Arthur. You’d better be there.”  
  
  
**  
  
  
Two days later, Arthur took a taxi to the airport and then had a drink at the bar. Eames found him there. He grabbed his glass and tried not to look relieved, and Eames sat down in a chair next to him, looking relieved.  
  
“I didn’t think you were going to show up,” Eames said.  
  
“I didn’t think you were going to show up,” Arthur said.  
  
Eames glanced at him and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I suppose we’re both idiots.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said. “Thank you for the waffles, by the way. The other day. I kind of left without paying.”  
  
“Yeah. It’s alright.” Eames frowned. “I need you to borrow me some money, though.”  
  
“Fine,” Arthur said. He had robbed many banks in his life. “The plane leaves in an hour.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Are we really going?”  
  
“Absolutely,” Eames said. “But I think we should go together, just in case one of us decides to bail out on the way.”  
  
“I’m not going to bail out.”  
  
“I’m going to believe you when we’re in Ohio,” Eames said.  
  
But when they finally were in Ohio, they got kind of busy. Everything was perfect, only the mattress was creaking a lot. 


	5. Through the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt Circus + Stranded Due to Inclement Weather that I got from twistedrunes for Fanfiction Trope Mash-Up!

THROUGH THE AIR  
  
  
Three days after the accident, it started snowing. Arthur watched the snow piling up on the trailers and tents. At least no one would come to the show tonight, he thought and didn’t even feel bad about it. He had been doing this for five years and he hadn’t missed a show even once, and now that he would, everyone else would miss it as well. He bit his lip and made more coffee. His ankle was aching again.  
  
But four days later, it was still snowing. Two shows had been cancelled, and now they were stuck. They had been supposed to leave the town tonight, but the snow was knee-high and the air was so thick with it that Arthur had trouble trying to see Ariadne’s trailer. Ariadne had stopped by in the morning, had asked him how he was, and he had lied that he was fine – yeah, of course it was disappointing to break his ankle in the middle of the tour, and yeah, his performance had been finally perfect, and yeah, it was a shame that it would take months until he could even start practicing again, and no, he didn’t have any other plans for the winter or for the rest of his life, and no, he didn’t have close family or friends outside the circus. He barely had friends in the circus, but he wasn’t going to point that out to Ariadne, who was the exception. For some reason, Ariadne was ignoring the fact that everyone else here thought Arthur didn’t know how to have fun, and he wanted the things to stay that way. He needed Ariadne.  
  
Everyone else was right, though. He didn’t know how to have fun. And he didn’t know what to do now that he couldn’t perform or practice. He was barely able to walk to his fridge and back to his bed beside the window and that was, like, two steps.  
  
He made coffee and then sat down on the bed drinking it and watching through the window as it kept snowing outside. Maybe he could read a book or something. Or try to sleep. Or stare at the ceiling and not feel bitter about the choice he had once made in between a master’s degree of literature and a career in the circus.  
  
He had just got to the bed and was staring at the ceiling when someone knocked on the door. Well, that was weird. Ariadne never dropped by twice at the same day. Maybe something bad had happened.  
  
He got out of the bed, hopped to the door and opened it.  
  
“Hello,” Eames said, smiling. He had snow in his hair and he was standing at Arthur’s doorstep. It didn’t make any sense. “I just thought I’d come and check how you’re doing.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Arthur said, staring at him. He had had exactly two conversations with Eames, and the later had happened when he had been lying on the floor, his ankle already broken, and Eames had been rambling about the ambulance with a panicking tone in his voice.  
  
Also, Arthur had a distinct memory of Eames caressing his face when they were waiting for the ambulance. But maybe it was something he had dreamed later. He had been on a lot of painkillers.   
  
“Yeah,” Eames said, his smile faltering a little. “Can I come in?”  
  
Arthur frowned. “Why?”  
  
Eames frowned back at him. “It’s snowing out here.”  
  
“Yeah, but I…” Arthur paused and took a deep breath. He didn’t have a fucking clue what Eames was doing here, but he didn’t feel like asking, either. Maybe it would be simpler to play along. “Alright,” he said and stepped aside from the doorway.  
  
“Thank you,” Eames said and walked past Arthur.  
  
Arthur closed the door, blinked at the amount of snow that was now melting on his doormat, and turned to Eames. Then he tried to take a step back, because Eames was standing closer to him than he had thought, which was how he ended up hitting his shoulder on the door. His trailer was a small one.  
  
“Careful, there,” Eames said, reached for Arthur and put his hands on Arthur’s waist. That was completely unnecessary, because Arthur only had one broken ankle. But Eames’ hands were big and steady and kind of nice, so he took a light grip on Eames’ arm.  
  
“Thanks,” he said.  
  
“It’s almost like you get into accidents every time I’m around,” Eames said, sounding like it was both funny and a little worrying. Then he let go, took a step back and hit the back of his knees against the edge of Arthur’s bed. “Sorry.”  
  
“Sorry about the mess,” Arthur said.  
  
“You should see the place where I’m sleeping,” Eames said and smiled again. Fucking hell, he had smiled at least three times since he had knocked on Arthur’s door. How was he able to do that? What the hell was wrong with his face? “So, your ankle –“  
  
Arthur blinked. “It’s alright.”  
  
Eames glanced at his ankle. There was a cast.  
  
“I mean,” Arthur said, “it’s going to be at least four months until I’m going to be on the trapeze again and I don’t know what to do with my life. But otherwise, everything’s alright.”  
  
Eames cleared his throat. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s alright,” Arthur said and then bit his lip. He had a funny feeling that the more he would say that it was alright, the more obvious it would be that it wasn’t.  
  
“Does it hurt?” Eames asked, looking at Arthur’s ankle now. He wasn’t smiling anymore.  
  
“Not really,” Arthur said. Shit, he really needed something else to talk about. “Do you drink coffee?”  
  
“No,” Eames said, “no, actually I don’t. I think it tastes kind of bad. Sometimes I try to pretend that I can stand it, but I don’t usually last long, so I’m not going to do that to you. But thank you for asking. Do you happen to have tea by any chance?”  
  
Arthur stared at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”  
  
“Great,” Eames said. “Could you maybe make me some?”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said. “You want me to make you tea?”  
  
“Yeah, absolutely. Can I sit down?”  
  
“I don’t have chairs, but maybe you can –“  
  
“Your bed is fine,” Eames said and sat down on Arthur’s bed. Arthur stared at him for a few seconds and then turned to the cabinet where he thought he had put a box of tea a few years ago.  
  
Luckily, he found the tea. He boiled the water and kept glancing at Eames, but it seemed that Eames was just sitting on his bed, his hands in his lap, looking like this wasn’t odd at all. It had been a long time since there had been a man in Arthur’s bed. Or on it. And this was Eames, Eames who was -  
  
“The weather,” he said and cleared his throat. “The weather’s nice.”  
  
“You like snow?” Eames asked in a polite voice.  
  
Arthur hated snow. “Yeah.”  
  
“I hate it, I have to admit,” Eames said. “It’s so cold and wet. Cold things aren’t supposed to be wet. Hey, can I ask you something?”  
  
“Maybe,” Arthur said. The tea was ready. He took the cup from the counter and turned to Eames.  
  
“Does it hurt?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your ankle,” Eames said. “I heard it’s broken.”  
  
Arthur passed the cup of tea to Eames and then just stood there. “Not much.”  
  
“You should sit down,” Eames said and then frowned. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’ve been just sitting here and letting you make me tea with your broken ankle and everything. Come on, sit down.”  
  
“I’m alright,” Arthur said. He wasn’t. His broken ankle was aching and his good ankle was aching as well, because he had most of his weight on it.  
  
“Come on,” Eames said and made space for him on the mattress. The sheets where rumpled at where he had been sitting. “It looked really bad, the way you fell.”  
  
Arthur took a deep breath. Then he took another. He hadn’t been sitting on a bed with another man for a long time. He didn’t have time for things like that, not really. And it wasn’t like he ever met new people. Well, there had been that one clown the last winter, but he had turned out straight after a few blow-jobs. Maybe Arthur wasn’t good at oral sex after all.  
  
“Eames,” he started, even though he didn’t have a clue where to go from there.  
  
“Arthur,” Eames said, “sit down. Please. It’s going to take me at least half an hour to finish this cup of tea anyway.”  
  
“Half an hour –“  
  
“Yeah, absolutely,” Eames said and sipped his tea. “I like to take my time when I’m drinking tea.”  
  
Arthur sat down next to him. The mattress dipped.  
  
“I think this is going to sound weird,” Eames said, looking at his cup of tea very seriously now. There was something in his voice that made Arthur want to get up and run away. Unfortunately, he couldn’t walk and there was a snowstorm outside. He held his breath and told himself that he was twenty-nine years old, a professional aerialist, and he wasn’t scared of having a conversation. “I’ve been meaning to come to see you,” Eames said. “Because I kind of feel that it was my fault.”  
  
“It wasn’t,” Arthur said.  
  
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Eames said, “for these past five years since the… since you fell. But I guess I’ve chickened out. Because, you know, I kind of feel that it was my fault.”  
  
“It wasn’t,” Arthur said and bit his lip, “it wasn’t your fault. Not at all.”  
  
“But,” Eames said and glanced at him, “and this is going to sound _so_ weird, but it was almost like I walked in and that’s when you fell.”  
  
“Not at all,” Arthur said.  
  
But the thing was, it was exactly like that. He had been practicing his act, the same act he had been doing for the past three months. He was very good at it. He was almost perfect. He knew it through and through. He was just going to go through it once, and he had been almost finished, when Eames had walked into the tent and stopped to look at him.  
  
And that was when he had fallen.  
  
“I didn’t know if I was supposed to come in,” Eames said. He sounded like he was in pain. Maybe the tea was bad. Arthur didn’t really drink tea, so he wouldn’t have known. “But I heard that you were practicing, and I never see your performance in a show because, you know, I’m busy selling popcorn. And I just wanted to… I thought you’d be brilliant, and I had been kind of thinking about it, wondering what it’d look like, and I just thought… And then I came in, and you looked at me and just fell. And I thought you were dead –“  
  
“Eames,” Arthur cut in and then cleared his throat twice. “I wasn’t dead.”  
  
“Yeah, I know it now, but –“  
  
“I couldn’t have been dead. I didn’t fall from that high. I had a bit of bad luck that I broke my ankle. It could’ve been nothing. And…”  
  
Eames took a sip of his tea and frowned at it.  
  
“I don’t mind that you walked in,” Arthur said. “People often do. Once I was practicing and Yusuf brought all his horses in. He apologized later, but yeah, that was a bit uncomfortable.”  
  
“But you looked so shocked to see me there,” Eames said. “And then you fell.”  
  
“I wasn’t…” Arthur took a deep breath. Fuck it. “You’re leaving one detail out.”  
  
Eames glanced at him. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Eames blinked. “Are you going to tell me?”  
  
Arthur definitely wasn’t going to tell him. He had been thinking about it for five days, and sometimes, in the darkest hours of the night, he had thought he should disappear, change his identity and delete his Facebook account.  
  
“Arthur?” Eames asked and then glanced at the tea. “By the way, there’s something wrong with this tea.”  
  
“You don’t have to drink it,” Arthur said. “You took your shirt off.”  
  
“Of course I’m going to drink this – _what?_ ”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I –“  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“But I didn’t –“  
  
“You were going to,” Arthur said. “You tugged it from your trousers and…”  
  
Eames took a deep breath. Arthur tried very carefully not to look at his face, or his hands, or his feet, or his knees, or any other part of him. Five days ago, he had been practicing, and Eames had walked in and started taking his shirt off, and Arthur had fallen like an amateur.  
  
“It was a bit hot in the tent,” Eames said slowly. “But I’m quite certain I wasn’t going to take my shirt off, I mean, I was just trying to get rid of my pullover. I was wearing a t-shirt under.”  
  
Arthur buried his face in his palms. He hadn’t known about the t-shirt. “I could see your stomach.”  
  
“My…” Eames paused. Arthur could see from the corner of his eye that Eames glanced down at his own stomach, then tugged the hem of his shirt up and frowned at his navel. “You could see my stomach?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And then you just…”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Because you were so offended –“  
  
“No,” Arthur said and shook his head, “no, it wasn’t that. _Fuck._ ”  
  
“So,” Eames said and shifted on the mattress, “it wasn’t like the idea of my bare skin was so offensive to you that you missed your trapeze.”  
  
“No,” Arthur said. He had been wrong. He was absolutely scared of having this conversation.  
  
“Alright. And how… how would you describe my stomach, then?”  
  
“Don’t do that. I can’t talk about your stomach.”  
  
“Okay,” Eames said and was quiet for a few seconds. “Do you want to kiss?”  
  
Arthur opened his mouth to say that no, he _really_ didn’t want to talk about Eames’ stomach, and the tattoos Eames had weren’t even that great, so it was just irritating that Eames still looked _so good_ , and that the strip of bare skin on his stomach had been enough for Arthur to forget what he was doing, which had been that he had been kind of flying through the air. It was just irritating. There were no other feelings included, and besides, Eames didn’t have to know about those feelings.  
  
Then he realized what Eames had asked.  
  
He thought about it for a second. “Yeah.”  
  
“Yeah?” Eames said. He sounded delighted.  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said.  
  
“Because the thing is,” Eames said, “I’ve been thinking about you. All the time. Ever since I met you two weeks ago when I started this job and introduced myself to you and you looked at me like you didn’t realize why I was talking to you. And I’ve been wanting to get to you, but you’ve been pretty hard to find.”  
  
“I was trying to hide from you,” Arthur said. “Because you’re so…”  
  
“I’m so what?” Eames asked in a hopeful tone.  
  
Arthur straightened his back. This was awful. “I think you’re hot. I can’t stand it.”  
  
“Oh,” Eames said, “I’m so glad to hear about that, darling. I think you’re hot, too.”  
  
“I’m not hot,” Arthur said.  
  
“Shut up,” Eames said and put his empty cup on the shelf. “Do you think we could kiss now? Not that I’m in a hurry or anything, it’s just that we’ve been sitting on your bed for a while now. It’s been a long time since I’ve been sitting on a bed with a man.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said, “it’s been a long time for me, too.”  
  
“I’ll take my shirt off, if you want,” Eames said.  
  
And he did. He took his trousers off, too, and then his boxers, and then his socks, only at that point Arthur wasn’t really counting anymore. He was otherwise occupied. It was all a bit tricky because of his broken ankle and also because it turned out he had half-forgotten how to have sex. But everything turned out alright in the end.  
  
Several hours later, Eames got out of the bed, took three steps to the door and tried to open it. Arthur was watching him from the bed. Eames’ ass looked almost as nice as it felt.  
  
“Darling,” Eames said, closed the door and turned to him, “it seems that we’re snowed in.”


	6. Gloves on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written to a prompt _You're the cute doctor and I'm the chaotic patient that keeps ending up in the hospital AU_ on [daily au tumblr](https://dailyau.tumblr.com/post/621277181573840897/youre-the-cute-doctor-and-im-the-chaotic-patient).
> 
> I just need you to know that I know nothing of medicine, first aid, doctors, hospitals, STDs, or gloves.

GLOVES ON  
  
  
”Arthur –”  
  
”No,” Arthur said.  
  
”Yeah,” Ariadne said. She sounded apologetic but Arthur wasn’t going to be fooled. “It seems that he’s not going to accept anyone else.”  
  
“He’s a patient,” Arthur said. He was drinking his second cup of coffee today and it was already afternoon. He wasn’t going to cut his coffee break short to take care of a patient who thought for some goddamn reason that he had the right to say which doctor he preferred. “For fuck’s sake,” Arthur added, just to make certain that Ariadne knew he was serious about this.  
  
“Arthur,” Ariadne said slowly. She was smiling now. “I think you should go there.”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Arthur said.  
  
“He’s got a wound on his bicep,” Ariadne said, “and it looks pretty bad.”  
  
Arthur sighed. He was going to finish his coffee at least. He was going to…  
  
He stood up.  
  
“At least he’s cute,” Ariadne said after him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Arthur!” the patient said, when Arthur walked to the room. It was a mystery how he knew Arthur’s name, because there was only Arthur’s surname on the nameplate. “I’m glad you came.”  
  
Arthur ignored him. Well, he ignored the patient’s face and focused on the wound instead. It really was on the left bicep. The patient had tried to wrap it with looked like two white socks tied together. Apparently his arms were so wide that one sock hadn’t been enough. The socks were soaked red now.  
  
“You look good,” the patient said.  
  
“You don’t,” Arthur said. Strictly speaking, that was a lie, which only made everything worse.  
  
“I’m sorry about the mess,” the patient said, nodding at his arm. “I don’t know what happened.”  
  
“Sure,” Arthur said. He cut the sleeve of the patient’s shirt with scissors, unwrapped the bloody socks and started cleaning the wound. Then he realized the nurse was staring at him. “You can go,” he said.  
  
“But -,” said Tony. Arthur had tried to hit on him once after a very long shift during which five people had died.  
  
“I’ve got this,” Arthur said and tried to look like he wasn’t planning to hit on anyone ever again, especially not the patient with a bloody arm and a squeezy look on his face. Maybe the idiot didn’t like blood. That would have been kind of funny, because in the last three weeks, he had ended up five times at the ER looking like someone had tried to remove one of his limbs. So far, Arthur had managed not to ask him what he was doing that got him injured so often.  
  
“What’re you smiling at?” the patient asked, when they were alone in the room and Arthur was preparing to patch his arm up.  
  
“I’m not smiling,” Arthur said, trying to stop smiling.  
  
“You’ve got a nice smile,” the patient said, staring at him. “And dimples. I noticed that the first time I was here.”  
  
“When you had almost got your leg removed.”  
  
“Yeah. I can’t believe you remembered.”  
  
Arthur bit his lip.  
  
“I was a bit worried I wouldn’t see you this time. Ariadne told me you were busy.”  
  
“Ariadne –“  
  
“Yeah, I asked her name once when I was waiting for you and she was trying to, I don’t know, stop me from bleeding to death while you were taking care of someone else. I’m a little bit hurt about that, really.”  
  
“Mr. Eames –“  
  
“Just say Eames,” Eames said.  
  
Arthur bit his lip. “Mr. Eames, stop moving your arm so I can stitch you.”  
  
“I’m not moving my arm,” Eames said. His arm kept trembling. Arthur took a firm grip on his elbow and started stitching. “I don’t know if you’ve realized,” Eames said, “but I think you’re hot.”  
  
Arthur concentrated on the stitching.  
  
“I feel a bit funny,” Eames said, blinking. “I’m terribly afraid that I’m going to…“  
  
Arthur glanced at his face. He looked very pale suddenly. “Don’t you dare to faint on me, Mr. Eames.”  
  
“I’m not going to faint,” Eames said, winked at him, and fainted.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Arthur –“  
  
“Absolutely not,” Arthur said. It had only been two days since Eames had fainted on the table while Arthur had been trying to stitch him up. After he had come back from it, he had seemed surprisingly shaken for a man whose lifestyle led him to the ER at least twice a week. He had called Arthur _darling_ five times before Arthur had managed to leave the room.  
  
“He’s got another wound,” Ariadne said seriously. “It’s on his butt.”  
  
“It’s on his –“  
  
“Yes,” Ariadne said.  
  
Arthur stared at her.  
  
“Just go,” Ariadne said. “Otherwise someone else is going to start stitching his butt up. It’s pretty bad, his left thigh is covered in blood.”  
  
“Oh, god.”  
  
“Yeah. I think you should hurry. He looked like he was going to vomit and also he kept asking where you were.”  
  
Arthur opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, finished his cup of coffee and went to the operation room. Eames was lying on his stomach on the table. The wound on his right buttock was bleeding a lot. For a second Arthur thought he was unconscious, but then he saw Arthur and whistled.  
  
“Arthur,” he said. “You came.”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said. “Don’t move.”  
  
“What’re you going to do if I do?”  
  
“And be quiet.”  
  
“Arthur,” Eames said, “Arthur, I kind of like you. Can I just say… is there someone else in here?”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said. “Two nurses.” The nurses looked a little amused but were clearly trying to be professional about it.  
  
“Arthur,” Eames said, “I just hope you like my ass.”  
  
“Did you give him painkillers?” Arthur asked the nurses. He hoped he wasn’t as flushed as he felt.  
  
“No, he’s been like that since he came,” Li said.  
  
“Darling,” Eames said. He sounded a little sad and also like he was in a lot of pain.  
  
“You’re going to be alright,” Arthur told him. “I’m going to fix your butt. Now, if you could kindly shut up and just lie there, so I can do my job.”  
  
Eames blinked at him. The nurses were looking at each other.  
  
“Great,” Arthur said and started working on Eames’ butt. The wound was terrible, but not as terrible as the tattoo Eames had on there. It was impossible to imagine why anyone would get a picture like that tattooed on their ass. Arthur frowned at it and then realized the nurses were oddly quiet. Eames was quiet, too. He was apparently trying to watch Arthur, which wasn’t going well, because Arthur was standing behind him. But at least he hadn’t passed out yet.  
  
“Do you like my butt?” Eames asked in a muffled voice.  
  
“No,” Arthur said and tried not to pet it.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
“What?” Arthur asked, because it didn’t look like Ariadne was going to tell him. And he could see from the look on her face that it was about Eames.  
  
“He’s got a black eye,” Ariadne said in a quiet voice, “and his lip is split. It looks bad but it’s not. He’s going to be alright.”  
  
“Okay,” Arthur said.  
  
“He said not to tell you,” Ariadne said.  
  
Arthur stopped what he had been doing. “Why?”  
  
“He said,” Ariadne said and smiled a little, “that he wants you to think that he’s hot, so there’s no need for you to see him like that.”  
  
Arthur took a deep breath. “Could you –“  
  
“Yeah,” Ariadne said, “I’ll finish here. You can go and take care of him.”  
  
Arthur nodded. Then he apologized to the patient who’s left thumb he had been trying to put back after the patient had accidentally removed with circular saw. The patient seemed to like Ariadne better anyway.  
  
Arthur found Eames sitting on the operation table. He looked like someone had kicked him on the face.  
  
“Mr. Eames,” Arthur said and sent the nurse away.  
  
“I’m going to murder Ariadne,” Eames said and then winced when Arthur touched his swollen face. “Not really. You don’t need to report me or anything. I’m just not feeling very pretty today, so I thought it’d be for the best if you didn’t see me.”  
  
“You look good,” Arthur said and started cleaning the cut on Eames’ lip. Eames flinched. “I mean, obviously you look terrible. What happened?”  
  
“I’d like to tell you,” Eames said, “but then I’d have to kill you.”  
  
Arthur bit his lip.  
  
“I like your dimples,” Eames said. His face certainly was close to Arthur’s. He smelled of tea and blood.  
  
“Anyway,” Arthur said, “whatever you’re doing that’s getting you hurt all the time, you should probably stop it.”  
  
“I can’t,” Eames said.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Eames shrugged. “Maybe I’m a criminal.”  
  
Arthur didn’t exactly smile.  
  
“Or something,” Eames added.  
  
“I don’t want you to come here with your head removed.”  
  
“I didn’t know you’re fond of my head.”  
  
“Stop flirting with me,” Arthur said.  
  
“Or what?” Eames said, and then he closed his eyes, because Arthur brushed his thumb against the bruise he had there.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Arthur,” Ariadne said.  
  
Arthur turned to look at her. He had already taken off his coat and had just unzipped his trousers. “Yeah?”  
  
“I know your shift is over,” Ariadne said, looking around in the dressing room.  
  
“Just tell me,” Arthur said and closed his zipper again. He could tell by the look on Ariadne’s face that it was about Eames.  
  
“He says he’s got a STD,” Ariadne said.  
  
Arthur blinked. “A what?”  
  
“Yeah,” Ariadne said slowly. “I told him that we’re the ER and that he definitely shouldn’t have come to us with that. But he said he’s worried.”  
  
Arthur stared at her.  
  
“He asked me to tell you that if you have time, he would appreciate it very much if you could stop by and check him.”  
  
“Check –“  
  
“Alright, he bribed me,” Ariadne said, raising her hands, “but I swear that I wouldn’t have accepted if I didn’t genuinely think you’re into him.”  
  
Arthur took a deep breath. “I’m not into –“  
  
“Arthur.”  
  
“I’m not –“  
  
“ _Arthur_ ,” Ariadne said and crossed her arms on her chest, “I’m more than happy to go back there and tell him that you’re not into him and that he needs to get an appointment for his STD like everyone else.”  
  
Arthur thought about it for a second. “No, that’s alright. I can see him. I didn’t have anything planned anyway.”  
  
Ariadne looked like she didn’t know if she ought to have been amused or pitying. What she did was actually a very impressive mix, but Arthur didn’t have much patience to admire it. He put his white coat back on, told her not to mention this to anyone, ever, and went to see Eames. At least Ariadne had left Eames in the room alone, so there were no nurses to witness this and tease Arthur about it later.  
  
“Hi,” Arthur said and closed the door behind him. “This is unethical.”  
  
“I know,” Eames said. “Sorry. But I told you I’m a criminal.”  
  
Arthur stared at him for a few seconds and then rolled up his sleeves. “So, Ariadne told me you’ve got a STD.”  
  
“Yes,” Eames said. He sounded oddly excited about it. Maybe the sex had been very good. “Darling, why’re you looking so grim?”  
  
“I always look grim,” Arthur said quickly. He should stop thinking about Eames having sex with someone else. “So, what did you –“  
  
“Do?”  
  
“No,” Arthur said, “no, I absolutely don’t need to know that. I meant, what kind of symptoms do you have?”  
  
Eames told him about the symptoms. It sounded like chlamydia. Also, he was happy to see that Eames’ face was healing well, and that he didn’t have new wounds anywhere that Arthur could see. The shirt he was wearing was terrible but that wasn’t a health-related emergency, so Arthur was willing to ignore it. And then he realized vaguely what Eames had just asked of him.  
  
“I’m not going to give you a full body checkup,” he answered.  
  
“Why?” Eames asked. “Don’t you like my body?”  
  
Arthur stared at him for a few seconds. He should have been outraged. This was totally inappropriate. “I’m an ER doctor. You can’t just walk over here and ask me to give you a full body checkup because you think you’ve got a STD.”  
  
“But your shift is over,” Eames said, watching him carefully.  
  
“That doesn’t mean anything.”  
  
Eames narrowed his eyes.  
  
Arthur frowned at him as seriously as he could. Eames was wasting both of their time here. It didn’t matter that he was hot and funny and that Arthur had acquired a habit of jerking off to the idea that Eames would ask him on a date.  
  
“Alright,” he said and took a deep breath. “But I’m only doing this because I think you’re genuinely worried.”  
  
“Great,” Eames said, smiling widely.  
  
It was terrible. It was absolutely terrible. Arthur locked the door and hated himself a little about that, and then he told Eames to kindly take off his clothes and hated himself for that, too, only it was a bit difficult to hate himself when Eames was looking at him like that. It was almost surprising. He had a good record of being able to hate himself, but apparently he had his limits. Also, he was pretty sure Eames actually had chlamydia and the checkup wasn’t going to do any good with that, so he was going to have to take care of the chlamydia situation later. For now, what he was apparently doing was that he had Eames standing there naked for him, while he put on his gloves and tried to ignore the fact that he was getting hard almost as fast as Eames.  
  
“Don’t ejaculate,” he said a little later, when he was doing what he definitely wasn’t going to put into words, now or ever, and Eames looked like he was very hard not trying to touch his own cock.  
  
“Fuck,” Eames said and bit his lower lip.  
  
“And don’t do that. Your lips haven’t healed properly yet.”  
  
“They’re fine,” Eames said, watching him. He was flushed and shaking and he was staring at Arthur like he had a doctor kink or something. “I can do things with them.”  
  
“Not now,” Arthur said, “now you’re going to take a few deep breaths for me. This is going to be over soon.”  
  
“Oh, _shit,_ ” Eames said and took a very deep breath.  
  
“Just don’t come.”  
  
“I need you to know,” Eames said in a thin voice, “that I actually like you. I like you very much, Arthur. It’s not just that you look very good on that coat. I like you, and I want to date you, and I want to have sex with you.”  
  
“Oh, really?” Arthur asked. It came out more sarcastic than he had meant it to, but then again, he was busy with his fingers.  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said, shaking, “yeah, I know it might be surprising, but I mean it. I definitely mean it. Tonight. At the restaurant. I’ll bring you flowers. And later we can –“  
  
Arthur pulled his fingers off and took a step away from Eames. Eames let out a voice that sounded like someone had kicked a very aroused man on the stomach, but gently.  
  
“Darling,” Eames said, staring at him.  
  
“You can put on your clothes,” he said, sat down at the table and pretended he was looking at the computer. “And also, you can come pick me up at eight.”  
  
Eames was breathing very hard. “Really?”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said and crossed his legs. “But you really need to get an appointment for that chlamydia.”  
  
“I already booked one,” Eames said, “it’s next week. Where’re we going?”  
  
“Somewhere fancy,” Arthur said. “And I want to know what you’re doing for living. You’re obviously making bad choices in your life.”  
  
“I’m a criminal,” Eames said and tried to squeeze his dick into his trousers.  
  
“Bloody hell,” Arthur said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
The date was fine, even though Eames’ clothes were terrible. Arthur managed to ignore that, because Eames was funny and clever and asked him just the right kind of questions and laughed at his clumsy attempts of a joke and kissed him in the taxi, and when they finally got to his place, manhandled him until he had his back against the wall and his front pressed against Eames’ chest. It was kind of perfect. When the kissing went on and the clothes went off, he wondered if Eames wanted him to put on gloves or his white coat or something like that. But Eames didn’t. What he wanted instead, apparently, was to have very regular kind of sex in Arthur’s bed and fall asleep afterwards. Arthur watched Eames sleeping and felt a little terrified about how happy he was.  
  
The next day, Eames asked Arthur in a careful tone if perhaps Arthur wanted to put on gloves and a white coat and do what they had done yesterday at the hospital, only with the slight difference that this time, they would both ejaculate eventually. Arthur thought about it for a moment and then said that he actually wanted to do that. And that Eames wasn’t going to ejaculate until Arthur told him so. And that he should start taking off his clothes and then go stand over there, next to the kitchen table. There was a slight chance that Arthur would have to get a new kitchen table later, but that seemed like a good bargain at this point.  
  
He kind of slipped off from the role eventually. By then, he had a good idea that Eames didn’t have any infection in his throat or in his ears or in his eyes, and all his moles looked perfectly safe, too, including the one that was in a quite intimate place. Eames was looking at him like he was something incredible and not just a bossy doctor who wasn’t even wearing socks, and he asked if Eames maybe wanted to end this in the bed. Eames nodded, and then did a surprisingly good job at fucking Arthur in that bed. With a condom, of course.  
  
The day after that, Eames called Arthur’s mother and asked her if they could come over the next weekend.  
  
The day after that, Arthur worked a shift with Ariadne and couldn’t look her in the eyes.  
  
The day after that, he woke up with Eames’ arm draped over his waist and Eames’ dick pressed against the curve against his ass.  
  
The day after that, he found out what Eames did for living.


	7. Darling You Make Me Want to Fall Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I think I’m going to take a nap,” Eames says, yawns, and falls asleep leaning against Arthur’s shoulder._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is canon-based story and happens during the Fischer job!
> 
> Also, I wrote this to a prompt _‘this person just fell asleep on me in the subway but they’re cute so whatever’ AU_ on [Daily AU Prompts](https://dailyau.tumblr.com/post/190627126186/this-person-just-fell-asleep-on-me-in-the-subway). Kind of lost the subway, though.

DARLING YOU MAKE ME WANT TO FALL ASLEEP  
  
  
“I think I’m going to take a nap,” Eames says, yawns, and falls asleep leaning against Arthur’s shoulder.  
  
Bloody fucking _hell._   
  
“That’s weird,” Ariadne says, looking at them with a frown on her face. “He’s very good at falling asleep.”   
  
“It _is_ weird,” Dom says, crossing his arms over his chest. “And also impressing. It’s pretty rare to meet someone who’s in dreamshare and can fall asleep easily. Without sedatives, I mean.”   
  
“Yeah, I got that,” Ariadne says.   
  
“Eames is an idiot,” Yusuf says from the desk where he’s working his chemistry. He sets the vials aside to look at Arthur and Eames. “Once in Mombasa, he tricked a room full of gangsters thinking that he had beaten them at poker and then showed them magic tricks with the cards he had stuffed in his sleeves.”   
  
“I think it’s about trust,” Saito says. “Mr. Eames clearly trusts Mr. Arthur very much.”   
  
Arthur wants to murder them all. Nicely, because they’re his co-workers and he doesn’t want to be impolite. “Stop staring at me.”   
  
“He looks so comfortable,” Ariadne says, looking at Eames, who is breathing steadily against Arthur’s shoulder.   
  
Arthur tells himself that once Eames wakes up, Arthur’s going to have a serious conversation with him. He’s going to remind Eames that they’re professionals and that Eames should not fall asleep on him in any circumstances, unless it is absolutely essential for the job. Also, he should probably tell Eames not to come so close to him. Before his” nap, Eames had been sitting at Arthur’s desk, asking for details about Robert Fischer’s hobby schedule. His chair had been dragged so close to Arthur’s that their knees had brushed.   
  
Eames wakes up five minutes later. Arthur freezes. Everyone is still staring. But Eames just stands up, tugs at the hem of his shirt and asks if anyone wants coffee.   
  
  
**   
  
  
The next time it happens, Eames doesn’t even bother to warn him. Maybe that’s for the best, because he might have panicked and hit Eames in the face. Now there’s nothing he can do: Eames is already asleep, snoring quietly, and he’s sitting in the dusty break room with a cup of coffee in his hand, unable to move because Eames is resting against his shoulder.   
  
They’re the first ones at the warehouse this morning, Eames and him. When Dom comes, he finds them in the break room, says good morning, goes, comes back again and squints at them.   
  
“Is there something I should know?” Dom asks in a quiet voice, because Eames is still asleep.   
  
“Yes,” Arthur says. “The information I have about Fischer’s riding lessons might be incorrect. Also, I have some problems trying to dig up his tax information.”   
  
“No, I meant…” Dom pauses and nods at Eames.   
  
“What?” Arthur asks.   
  
Dom nods at Eames again. “You and -”   
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Arthur says, straightening his back. Eames doesn’t wake up. “No. _No._ Absolutely not. Nothing. I don’t even think that he’s weirdly hot. He just happened to walk in here and fall asleep on me.”   
  
“Okay,” Dom says slowly. “I thought we could keep a small briefing in half an hour, when everyone has got here. Could you wake him up by then?”   
  
“Of course,” Arthur says. What he doesn’t say is that in half an hour, Eames is going to be either awake or dead.   
  
  
**   
  
  
“Do you have a problem or something?” Arthur asks, after Eames has fallen asleep on him for the third time in four days. Not that he’s counting or anything.   
  
“Yeah, I have,” Eames says. “I’m glad that you asked. I didn’t think you cared. Well, my gambling problem has gotten better lately, but I have a little bit of a fixation with buying toys online now. Have you ever heard of a show called _My Little Pony?_ ”   
  
“No,” Arthur says. He tries not to look like he’s about to lose his mind. Everyone is looking at them. And he thinks he can still feel the weight of Eames’ very muscular body resting against his left shoulder and arm. He can’t understand how Eames can keep his body structure. He’s gone through all the surveillance material about the warehouse and hasn’t seen Eames exercise even once. He should probably hack the security cameras in Eames’ hotel next.   
  
That night, Arthur is about the leave the warehouse, when he hears the sound of a quiet conversation. He finds Dom and Ariadne talking in the other room.   
  
“But do you know if they have something going on?” Ariadne asks Dom. “Arthur and Eames?”   
  
“No,” Dom says.   
  
“You don’t know or they don’t have anything going on?”   
  
Dom looks confused. “I’m not sure.”   
  
“We don’t have anything going on,” Arthur says in a loud voice. At least they both look quilty.   
  
  
**   
  
  
“Eames,” he says the next day, when he finds Eames alone in the men’s room, where Eames is taking a piss. This might not be the perfect moment, but Arthur can’t put it off any longer. He spent the whole night wondering if they have something going on, Eames and him.   
  
“Arthur,” Eames says, looking at Arthur over his shoulder. He looks delighted.   
  
“I was wondering -” Arthur says and settles next to him. He should probably piss, too. Otherwise it’s going to look like he just followed Eames to the men’s room for no reason. He unzips his trousers.   
  
“Yeah?” Eames asks.   
  
“There’s some talk,” Arthur says and clears his throat.   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“About us.”   
  
Eames looks surprised. “Really?”   
  
“Yeah,” Arthur says and bites his lip. “Ariadne asked Dom if there’s something going on.”   
  
“Something going on?”   
  
“Yeah,” Arthur says and glances at Eames. He tries not to glance at Eames’ dick, because that would be weird. “Romantically, I suppose.”   
  
“Romantically?”   
  
“Or, I don’t know, sexually.”   
  
“Sexually,” Eames says slowly, tugs his dig in his trousers and closes the zipper. “Interesting. What do you think?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Is there something going on?”   
  
Arthur stares at him for a few seconds and then pulls himself together. “No. Of course not. Absolutely not. I would never think… Did you know that Fischer sold his horse recently?”   
  
“No, I didn’t know that,” Eames says in a polite tone, pats Arthur on the shoulder and leaves. It takes Arthur a minute to realize Eames didn’t wash his hands first. He must burn this suit.   
  
He doesn’t burn it, though. He hangs it in the wardrobe in the hotel room and tries to remember what Eames answered, when Arthur asked him if there’s something going on.   
  
  
**   
  
  
“One of the deck chairs is broken,” Ariadne says the next morning, when they’re supposed to do a testrun in the first level of the dream. “We only have two.”   
  
“It’s okay,” Eames says. “I can share with Arthur.”   
  
Arthur opens his mouth.   
  
“Perfect,” Dom says.   
  
Arthur closes his mouth and glances at the desk chair he’s supposed to lie down on with Eames. It’s narrow. This is crazy and possibly dangerous. They might fall and hit their head. The deck chair might break down. And he doesn’t know how they’re supposed to fit in the deck chair anyway. Cuddling?   
  
“Okay,” he says and climbs onto the deck chair. “Hook me up.”   
  
“Wait for me, darling,” Eames says and climbs onto him.   
  
Okay, so, yeah, they don’t fit in the deck chair. Eames is lying on him, like, literally on him. He’s on his back and Eames is on his stomach and kind of crushing him, but not necessarily in a bad way. He didn’t think he’d be into stuff like this but then again, it’s been a while since he’s had sex. And he’s never had sex with Eames.   
  
“Darling, I hope I’m not crushing you,” Eames says.   
  
“Of course not,” Arthur says, short of breath.   
  
“Just tell me if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”   
  
“I’m not,” Arthur says. “Everything’s great.”   
  
“You feel surprisingly fragile from this position,” Eames says. “I never realized.”   
  
“I’m not fragile,” Arthur says. What he’s instead is that he’s getting hard, quickly, and there’s no way to hide it, because Eames is on him. One of Eames’ thighs is pressing against his crotch. He’s very successfully ignored the fact that Eames is ridiculously hot for many years and through many jobs, but in the current circumstances, it’s getting more and more difficult.   
  
“Hook me up,” he says to Dom. “Quickly.”   
  
“Are you sure?” Dom asks. “You look flushed.”   
  
They are under for two minutes. When they wake up again, Arthur’s still hard, and Eames’ thigh is still pressing against his cock.   
  
“Sorry,” he says to Eames.   
  
“Don’t worry, darling,” Eames says and climbs off from him. Then he stands there next to the deck chair for a few seconds, coincidentally hiding Arthur from the rest of the team. Arthur tugs the hem of his shirt free, pulls it in front of his crotch and rushes to the bathroom as calmly as he can.   
  
  
**   
  
  
“Darling,” Eames says, walking up to Arthur’s desk.   
  
Oh, _fuck._   
  
Arthur straightens his back. They’re alone in the warehouse, everyone else has already left. He was planning to sneak out without Eames noticing, but it’s too late now.   
  
He takes a deep breath. He should say something witty, but it’s been a long day full of hardships. It even happened in the afternoon that for a moment, he thought he didn’t have a choice except to jerk off in the bathroom.   
  
“Please, don’t,” he says to Eames.   
  
Eames drags the closest chair to Arthur and sits down. His knee brushes against Arthur’s. “I was just going to say that I didn’t mind. Not even a little bit.” He pauses. “Well, obviously I realize the timing might have been better. You don’t like to mix work and fun.”   
  
“I’m not a very fun person,” Arthur says, his voice coming out strained. Sometimes he’s more than a little jealous of how Eames always manages to sound like he might be joking, as if it’s up to the listener to decide whether they think he’s serious or not. “But I’m glad you didn’t mind.” He takes a deep breath and looks Eames in the eyes. “I’m sorry anyway.”   
  
“No, I’m sorry,” Eames says and clears his throat. “Well, not really, but I’m sorry that you had to retreat to the bathroom. Anyway, I was thinking that we could go for a dinner.”   
  
Arthur frowns. “What?”   
  
“Yeah,” Eames says. “Take your coat. I know a place.”   
  
Arthur tries to realize what’s happening. It’s surprisingly difficult. “Eames, I can’t just -”   
  
“You’ve spent the last fifteen minutes staring at a blank computer screen, thinking how you could sneak out without me noticing,” Eames says. “Come with me. We’ll go for a dinner, and if you want, we can go to my hotel room after and have sex.”   
  
“ _Sex?_ ”   
  
“Yes,” Eames says, “sex.”   
  
“You and me?”   
  
“Yes.” Eames pauses, looking at him carefully. “Unless you don’t want to.”   
  
“No, I -” _Shit._ He wants to. “It can’t affect our work.”   
  
“It won’t,” Eames says.   
  
“I don’t bottom,” Arthur says. “I don’t like it.”   
  
“Alright,” Eames says. “I’m very quiet in bed. I don’t know why. Must be my upbringing. But I don’t want you to be disappointed.”   
  
“I won’t be,” Arthur says.   
  
“You can stay for the night if you like,” Eames says. “We can have breakfast together tomorrow. I like breakfast.”   
  
“Yeah, me too,” Arthur says. He’s lying, though. He doesn’t remember when was the last time he had anything else than coffee for breakfast.   
  
He takes his coat and follows Eames.   
  
  
**   
  
  
After a dinner, a somewhat unnerving taxi-ride, half an hour of kissing and twenty minutes of a little hasty but perfectly enjoyable sex, Eames falls asleep on Arthur.   
  
Arthur waits for a moment. But Eames is already snoring, and there is no way Arthur could survive a whole night of being pressed in between the mattress and Eames’ impressive body.   
  
“Hey,” he says, wriggling a little. Eames is still snoring. “Hey. Eames. _Eames -_ ”   
  
“What?” Eames asks. Then he seems to realize. He rolls off from Arthur, settles on his back on the mattress and looks at Arthur. “Sorry.”   
  
“It’s alright,” Arthur says. “I was only going to suffocate.”   
  
“I didn’t mean to suffocate you,” Eames says. He sounds genuine. Then he raises his hand and pushes the loose strands of hair from Arthur’s face. There’s an odd feeling in Arthur’s guts. Maybe he’s falling in love with Eames. But it feels surprisingly similar to the food poisoning he had in Berlin in 2007.   
  
“It’s kind of surprising how easily you fall asleep,” he says to say something. “Especially in our line of work.”   
  
Eames looks at him carefully. He’s petting Arthur’s hair now. “What do you mean, I fall asleep easily?”   
  
“Well,” Arthur says, “for example, when you were sitting next to me at the warehouse, inspecting my work, and then you just said you were going to take a nap and fell asleep leaning against my shoulder. That was on Wednesday.”   
  
“Oh,” Eames says, “you meant that.”   
  
“And when we were in the break room and you -”   
  
“Yeah, I remember.”   
  
“And when you -”   
  
“I get it,” Eames cuts in and licks his lips.   
  
“And just now,” Arthur says, “you fell asleep on me. I barely had the time to get the condom off.”   
  
“Well, that was the sex,” Eames says. “Sex does that for me. But the other times…”   
  
Arthur waits but Eames just stares at him.   
  
“What?” he asks eventually.   
  
“Arthur, dear,” Eames says, “no one falls asleep _that_ easily.”   
  
Arthur blinks. “Then why did you -”   
  
Eames looks at him.   
  
He opens his mouth and then closes it again. “You _faked_ falling asleep?”   
  
“This is very embarrassing,” Eames says. He doesn’t look the least embarrassed. “But to my defence I have to say that I like your shoulders very much. And your whole body. And your face. And your personality.”   
  
Arthur thinks about it for a moment. But the thing is, he just came, he’s very tired, and Eames is petting his hair. “I’m going to get angry at you in the morning.” He pauses. “Possibly. If we have time. I’ll think about it. Remind me, if I forget.”   
  
“I’m looking forward to it, darling,” Eames says and kisses him.


	8. A Great Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's this scene in the movie Bridget Jones's Baby in which Bridget goes into a stranger's tent in a festival by accident. Here you go.

A GREAT IDEA  
  
  
Arthur had known right from the beginning that a rock festival was a bad idea. There would be loud music, mud, and people he knew nothing about and but whom he already hated. That was why he had told Dom that he wouldn’t go, and Dom had ignored him, bought two tickets and a tent, and then waited at his door while he had tried to figure out what to wear.  
  
But now it seemed that he had underestimated how bad of an idea going to a rock festival actually had been. He was covered in mud. He had mud in his socks and in his _mouth._ His shirt was ruined, his eardrums were ruined, and his friendship with Dom was possibly ruined, although he wasn’t counting on that. He had forgiven Dom for many things and was afraid he might forgive Dom for this as well. In ten years or so.  
  
He wanted to tell Dom how much he was suffering and how much he wasn’t going to forgive Dom, but Dom had disappeared with a brown-haired French girl five hours ago and left him alone with twenty thousand other people. That was why he was now hiding in his tent. He hadn’t known that he hated tents before this evening, but he had certainly had a hunch, and it had been a right one. So, he was lying on a camp bed in the leaking tent that Dom had probably stolen, because it had the words PROPERTY OF L.A. SCOUTS written on it. He was waiting for a sudden death or the next day, whatever would get him the hell out of here.  
  
When someone unzipped the door of the tent and rushed in, he realized in about two seconds that it wasn’t Dom.  
  
“So, yeah, I thought we could get Mom a necklace,” said the man who was in Arthur’s tent and, if Arthur saw quite right in the dark, shrugging off his coat. “Or a horse. You know how much she likes horses. Or if you think that she has too many already, well, maybe we could just, I don’t know, take her to a helicopter ride over the countryside. Some quality time with the family. And please tell me that you’re going to distract her if she starts asking questions about my love life. I know I should tell her that I’m gay, it’s just that I’m only thirty-three years old, so it’s kind of early to shock her like that, alright? Anyway, I think a horse would be a good idea, don’t you?”  
  
“What the fuck?” Arthur asked.  
  
The man froze. By then, he had managed to take off his coat and his shirt and his trousers and was now taking off his socks.  
  
Arthur wondered vaguely if he was supposed to start shouting for help. There was a stranger in his tent. This could potentially be dangerous. But it seemed unlikely that anyone would hear him, since a power metal band called The Loudest Dream was playing its second encore on the stage right next to the camping area.  
  
Besides, the man sitting half-naked in his tent looked a little confused. Surely, a robber wouldn’t have been _confused._  
  
“Where’s my sister?” the man asked. He sounded a little worried now, and also very British.  
  
Arthur cleared his throat. “Who?”  
  
“My sister,” the man said. “Margaret. Has she been hitting on you? I’m terribly sorry but she has a weakness for Americans. It’s the accent. She can’t help it. But you seem like a lovely lad, so I’m going to tell you straight away that you shouldn’t fall in love with her, she has a family in London and -”  
  
“I’m gay,” Arthur said.  
  
The man frowned. “ _What?_ ”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said. This was getting a little irritating. Usually when he told someone he was gay, they weren’t the least surprised.  
  
“But why did you sleep with her, then?” the strange British man asked, sounding genuinely frustrated.  
  
“What do you mean, why did I sleep with her? I haven’t slept with anyone.”  
  
“ _Anyone?_ ”  
  
“Yeah, no,” Arthur said and then thought about it. “Well, it’s been a while. And I definitely haven’t slept with any women.”  
  
“Good for you,” the stranger said, staring at him. Now that he was a little less worried about getting robbed and a little more pissed about being mistaken for a straight man, he had time to notice that the man had a nice face. And nice shoulders. And a nice chest, only with a lot of tattoos. But Arthur kind of liked tattoos in some days, and this was apparently one. “Are you sure you didn’t sleep with my sister?” the man asked.  
  
“Absolutely sure,” he told the man, staring at his stomach. It was nice, too. And his thighs. And everything else Arthur could see of him, and there was a lot.  
  
“I’m in your tent,” the man said suddenly, glancing around. “Bloody hell, I’m in _your_ tent.” Then he started laughing.  
  
Arthur just stared. He wasn’t sure what was happening, except that he really liked the man who was sitting in his tiny tent with not much clothes on. Maybe it had been too long since he had last had sex. Dom had told him so many times, but he had done his best to ignore Dom.  
  
“I thought this was my tent,” the very handsome stranger with a nice accent, huge arms and slightly offending tattoos said, now smiling widely. “And I just rushed in, talking about… talking about what we should get for my mother for her birthday, and there you were, and then I thought that you were… that you were one of my sister’s cute tiny American boyfriends. I’m terribly sorry. You must’ve been…” He frowned and stopped smiling. “You must’ve been a little worried. My apologies.”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Arthur said, watching the man’s thighs. Then he blinked and stretched out his hand. “I’m Arthur.”  
  
The stranger took his hand and squeezed it. He had a nice, firm grip. And big hands. “I’m Eames. You don’t mind?”  
  
“No,” Arthur said and reluctantly let go of Eames’ hand, “no, I don’t. I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”  
  
“You weren’t?” Eames asked, as The Loudest Dream began its third encore with a drum solo.  
  
“No. I’m waiting for someone.”  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Eames said, sounding oddly disappointed. “You’re waiting for someone.”  
  
“Yeah. My friend. He met a lovely French girl and disappeared with her somewhere.”  
  
“ _Oh_ , you’re waiting for your _friend._ I’m glad to hear. And are you enjoying the festival?”  
  
“Absolutely not. And how about you?”  
  
“Well, my evening is getting better,” Eames said. “Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked and sat down on Dom’s camp bed.  
  
“No, go ahead,” Arthur said, watching as Eames stretched out his legs over Arthur’s backpack. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to put his clothes back on. “Do you come here often?”  
  
“It’s actually my first time,” Eames said. He looked surprisingly comfortable sitting there half-naked. “At the festival, I mean. I’ve been in the States before. I’m from England, you know.”  
  
“I kind of guessed.”  
  
“And how about you? Do you come here often?”  
  
“No,” Arthur said, “and I’m never going to come here again. How do you like the States?”  
  
“It’s been sunny,” Eames said, “and there’s been rarely any rain. What’s your favorite band tonight?”  
  
“I don’t know any of them.”  
  
“Well, a few of my favorites are playing tomorrow. Maybe we could go see them together.”  
  
“Sure,” Arthur said and frowned. “So, I heard you’re here with your sister.”  
  
“Yeah. It’s kind of our tradition that we go to a festival and I try to keep her from hitting on cute American guys.” Eames paused and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that I thought you had slept with her, by the way. It was stupid of me. I should’ve noticed that you’re gay. Maybe it was just a bit too dark in here.”  
  
“It’s alright,” Arthur said. “But I’m gay.”  
  
“Good,” Eames said, rubbing the side of his nose, “yeah, that’s good. So, what would you like to do next? Do you want to go to listen to the next band with me? I think it’s Your Filthy Subconscious. I hear they’re pretty good.”  
  
“I don’t want to go anywhere. There’re other people out there.”  
  
“You’re absolutely right. Maybe we should just stay here.”  
  
“I think so, yeah.”  
  
“I’m just going to text my sister,” Eames said and pulled phone out of his pocket. “I don’t want her to come looking for me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said and bit his lip. “Do you want something? I have… I think I have a bottle of water here somewhere. And maybe chocolate.”  
  
“Chocolate sounds nice. But do you want to kiss first?”  
  
Arthur frowned. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”  
  
  
**  
  
  
Dom had known right from the beginning that a rock festival was a great idea. Arthur had been a little skeptical at first, but Dom had convinced him easily. And now they were both enjoying the experience of fresh air, nature, meeting new people, and listening to great music. Well, he hadn’t _seen_ Arthur in a few hours, but he was sure Arthur was having fun even without him. He, on the other hand, had just met the love of his life. The only problem was that he had forgotten his condoms to the tent. That was why he was going to drop by before he would go back to Mal and ask her what she thought about Los Angeles, a house in the suburbs, marriage, two children, and a golden retriever.  
  
He unzipped the door to his tent and got surprised when he realized there was someone there. He had been sure Arthur would be listening to Your Filthy Subconscious. But sometimes when Arthur and Dom spend time together, Arthur got a headache and went to bed early. Maybe this was one of those times. Dom blinked and tried to get accustomed to the dim light, and then he realized Arthur wasn’t on the camping bed alone.  
  
“And who’s this?” asked someone, who wasn’t Arthur, and who had a British accent.  
  
“I’m Dom,” Dom said. It seemed that the strange man with the British accent was lying on Arthur. Also, the stranger was naked.  
  
“Hello,” the stranger said and looked at Dom over his shoulder. His face was a little flushed. “I’m Eames. Nice to meet you.”  
  
“Yeah, you too,” Dom asked. “And how do you know Arthur?”  
  
“Well, it’s a funny story,” the stranger said. “I haven’t known him for long. Something like half an hour ago, I was looking for my sister, and then –“  
  
“Dom,” Arthur said, staring at Dom over the stranger’s shoulder. Arthur’s voice was a little breathless. “Dom, get out.”  
  
Dom squinted. “What?”  
  
“Get the hell out of here, I’m having sex.”  
  
“ _Sex?_ ”  
  
“ _Yes,_ ” Arthur said. He actually sounded like he was having sex. “Right _now._ ”  
  
Dom wasn’t sure if Arthur was saying that he was having sex right now or that he wanted Dom to get out right now. But because Dom had just fallen in love five and a half hours ago, he didn’t feel like he had the intellectual capacity to think about that.  
  
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll go now.”  
  
“I hope we meet again,” the British guy said to him.  
  
“Yeah, me too,” he said. He had a feeling that Arthur had something going on with the Britt, so he definitely needed to meet the man again and find out who he was and what he did for a living.  
  
About two minutes later he realized he had forgotten the condoms. He turned around and walked back to the tent, opened the door, and then realized Arthur was having sex. _Right now._  
  
“Dom,” Arthur said, sounding a little frustrated and like he was about to come within the next ten seconds, “what the _fuck?_ ”  
  
“Sorry,” Dom said, gave up on the condoms and went to look for Mal. He had always wanted to have kids anyway.


End file.
